


Lord and Lady of Storm's End

by klarolinedrabbles



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gendry's gotta learn about the history of his house ya'll, also Arya getting a good grip on what to do in Storm's End, fair amount of westeros history in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 22:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klarolinedrabbles/pseuds/klarolinedrabbles
Summary: After witnessing the fall of King's Landing, Arya remembers a very important conversation she shared with Sansa before she left Winterfell, and heads to Storm's End before Gendry gets there to start a life she almost passed on. Not at all prepared to let it slip through her fingers a second time.





	Lord and Lady of Storm's End

**Author's Note:**

> Oh lordy, lord. I think this is the longest thing I've ever written? I have about a billion thoughts about the finale that I've neglected to discuss on my blog because I guess you can say I retreated into this fic-writing hole where I wrote this one-shot here. This is my love letter we shall say, to a ship that I through the years would forget I loved as much as I did, but also a love letter to this fandom! The gendrya fandom is so resilient and just badass, it's been so fun with you guys these past six weeks, and I wanted to just do something a hell of a lot happier than what the show actually did for you guys. This fic kinda really got away from me. I underestimated how much I wished the show had done and fleshed out when it came to these two, so it just kept getting longer and ta-da, here we are. Sansa isn't Queen in the North in this cause I started writing it when I read the leaks like a whole week before 8x06 aired, and those hadn't said that she became Queen, so my mega apologies, I would've loved to have done that here, but I was in too deep to change it. Also a small note, there's a couple of tiny flashback moments in here, but the conversation between Sansa and Arya is told in parts, to reflect Arya's state of mind at each given part. So with that being said, I hope you guys like what I came up with for our angsty forest love and forest lass.

Arya looked up at the formidable fortress she’d learned of in her studies, recalling how much it intrigued her to hear of it. A specific hunger for knowledge that Septa Mordane never appreciated, her comments about wishing Arya was that dutiful in _all_ her studies always following whatever excitement she showed.

She recalled a great deal about this castle---about Storm’s End. The first Storm King having raised it six times, and that each time it was destroyed by a storm. It wasn’t till the seventh time that the castle withstood. She remembered the tale from Old Nan about how the Children of the Forest helped build the seventh one, enchanting the very stone it was made of so it endured any storm that encompassed the lands, protecting it from magic and so it was non-penetrable from outside attacks.

Her father was never a fan of the seat atop a cliff, with so few towns that surround it, and perhaps the only kingdom of the seven that could rival the North in regards to how wild it was. That was certainly the case for the politics of this kingdom. It had almost triple the sworn houses that the North had.

Arya took a deep breath as her horse trotted closer to the gate, she had her work cut out for her here, already cursing herself for not simply waiting till Sansa inevitably made her way south and enticing her to help.

She quickly shook her head and raised it higher than it’d been before, a new level of determination now at the forefront of her mind. Sandor’s final guidance to her having fueled her this far, she wouldn’t let that flame die out just yet.

It’s all she could do to keep her mind from wandering to thoughts she wasn’t quite ready to confront yet. Thoughts pertaining to a certain newly appointed Lord whose heart she broke, a twisted form of mercy, so convinced she wouldn’t survive her final trek to King’s Landing.

But she’d been wrong. She had been _so_ wrong.

He’d deserved an explanation, both for her answer to his proposal, and for her departure that he likely didn’t find out about until she was well down the King’s Road.

Recalling her conversation with Sansa before she left her throat clogged up.

_“So you are to be married then?” Sansa asked, a blatant hesitance to her face._

_Arya rolled her eyes at the restraint her sister was trying to showcase, knowing that of everything she just told her, that was hardly the first question she wanted to ask._

_But their relationship had changed drastically since she’d returned to Winterfell. Sansa was very good at knowing when not to push her, even if every instinct was urging her to._

_“I did not come here for polite chatter. Speak freely or not all.” She edged, noting her sister’s exhale at being able to let go of her restraint._

_“I’ll need you to start from the beginning then, Arya. Because none of this makes sense, and if you’re to depart in the morning while leaving me to tell this man that you’ve up and left, you owe me this.” She demanded, her voice every bit the Lady of Winterfell that she’d grown into being._

_Arya’s breathing shuddered, her facade of strength dissolving by the hour._

_“I met him the day they executed Father.” She whispered finally, the air around them growing cold._

_Sansa’s hands that’d been fidgeting in her lap froze._

_Arya tried not to take delight in managing to catch her off-guard, but her sister had become smarter than she’d ever thought her capable of as a young girl, and it was very difficult to surprise her these days._

_“That long?” She wondered out loud._

_“Yoren, the recruiter from the Night’s Watch that used to spend a night here when he would make his way South to go scouting for recruits, he was in King’s Landing that day.” Arya started, her voice growing small. “I had escaped from the Red Keep the day before, was trying to find my way around when the riot in the square started. I was on top of the statue of Baelor the Blessed when they dragged Father out, he must have seen me, saw Yoren amongst the crowd and told him to go fetch me.” She continued._

_Sansa was leaning all the way forward in her chair, her hands clenched so tight that the sound of the leather gloves every time her grasp became tighter was the only other sound in the room._

_“I was about to try and fight my way through the crowd when Yoren hauled me back, held my face to his stomach and wouldn’t let me go. When it was done, he didn’t hesitate, dragged me off to some alley, pulled out his knife and chopped off all my hair.” She remembered, almost laughing at how seriously she reacted to that then, in contrast to everything else._

_“He started calling me a boy and wouldn’t let me get in a word otherwise. So I had to pretend from that moment on. He’d led me towards all the other recruits he’d gathered, was getting picked on by this large boy, I had it handled, but that didn’t stop Gendry from stepping in.” She shared, a hint of a smile on her face._

_“Arya---if he was recruited for the Night’s Watch, did he do something---” she carefully approached, wanting to ensure she gathered all the facts about this person that held a place in her sister’s heart._

_“No.” She quickly squandered the train of thought. “We didn’t know it at the time, but Gendry ending up amongst the recruits was orchestrated. Don’t know by who, I’m sure Bran does.” She pondered. “Word eventually travelled about the order given to kill all of Robert’s bastards. But even when the gold cloaks showed up on the King’s Road looking for Gendry, neither one of us had pieced it together. I thought the gold cloaks were there for me.”_

_“I don’t think they searched that far for you, after a while I’d heard Joffrey order the guards not to bother. That you were probably already dead.”_

_Arya shrugged._

_“That doesn’t surprise me, they were always rather careless. I’d escaped from the Red Keep several times before Father was arrested.”_

_Sansa took note of her sister’s frozen gaze, taking the initiative to steer the conversation back to it’s purpose._

_“So that’s how you met Gendry?” She inquired once more, fascinated by the revelation of his ties to her sister._

_“Yes.” She confirmed. “After the incident with the gold cloaks, I’d asked what they wanted with him, and he asked the same, about why I hid from them. Told me if it was because I was a girl.”_

_“You told him?”_

_“Figured it out. But it turns out, Lord Arryn and Father had both visited where he worked, asked questions.”_

_“They knew.” Sansa realized, piecing together just how dangerous Gendry’s existence once was for anyone who knew._

_“I told him who I was after that. Who I truly was, and where I was going.”_

_“You trusted him.”_

_“More than anyone.” She revealed for the first time out loud, and for the first time to herself._

Seeing the gate of Storm’s End up close sent a chill down her spine. It’s a castle revered throughout Westeros as one of the few that has never been seized.

Eyeing the guards standing outside, she noticed they wore unmarked armor and held no banners.

“What business do you have here, girl?”

Arya narrowed her eyes, deliberating in her head whether or not it will be necessary to kill these guards.

Arriving to the conclusion that the least amount of bloodshed the better, a mischievous smiled etched it’s way on to her face.

“I’m Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I’m betrothed to the new Lord of Storm’s End.”

* * *

“My Lady---”

“Please, just call me Arya.” She insisted of her handmaiden, Lucinda.

Lucinda looked positively shocked at the notion, before curtsying.

“Very well, Arya.” She replied timidly. “Are you sure you wish to do this? The situation here in the Stormlands has been particularly difficult. After Ser Cortnay Penrose was killed, the castle’s been without a Castellan to manage it.” She advised. “Maester Norren had received word from your sister about Lord Baratheon and passed the message, but without a royal seal, it seems none of them took it seriously.”

“I don’t _want_ to do it, but someone has to, and I’d rather take care of this before Gendry’s arrival.” She said, an almost dull tone to her voice.

If anything she was dreading this for how tedious it’d be, not out of fear.

A few dozen Lord’s don’t frighten her, and it’s best they learn that sooner rather than later.

Arya stood in the Lord’s chambers of Storm’s End, somewhere in the middle of the castle’s one and only tower, fastening her weapons belt into place as Lucinda scurried around the room putting things in order.

She’d arrived four days ago, to a castle so unprepared for any arrival, let alone that of the future lady, that the only word to describe what the atmosphere became, was exhausting.

Her head swirled just remembering how many questions she wound up answering. Questions pertaining to her arrival, and the tales that had already spread of her throughout the Seven Kingdoms---that she was the Hero of Winterfell.

Then there were the questions about the newly legitimized Lord Baratheon, and who exactly had done the legitimizing. They asked who he was, how old, where he was raised, if he was kind. She’d had to shed light on what the situation was in King’s Landing, explain how Daenerys Targaryen burned the city to the ground, and to keep the realm from descending into chaos after her murder from someone in her ranks, Jon had accepted his claim to the throne as Aegon Targaryen.

As tiring as it was detailing all of that, she knew the servants of Storm’s End would take matters into their own hands and spread the word of everything she claimed to be true.

It wasn’t an easy day for her, recounting the matters of the Seven Kingdoms to them, but she knew that the _real_ hardship would be repeating all of it to the sworn houses of the Stormlands.

She was anticipating their belittling, and condescension. The very essence of why she lived her life so against the concept of being a Lady.

A part of her wondered if all this work was truly worth it.

_“You wanted to know what it was like?” Sansa asked, to her credit, only minimally scandalized at Arya’s reveal of having lain with Gendry before the Long Night._

_They’d maneuvered through the more unfortunate parts of their story. The part that left her heart in pieces before he’d been sold by the Brotherhood, the part she least liked to recall._

_“I once thought he was as good as dead.” She admitted, in her own way answering Sansa’s question._

_“Just about,” she confirmed. “I heard Ser Davos tell Jon how close he came, how close they both came to dying in Dragonstone.”_

_“Seeing him that day, arrive with Jon and Daenerys, made me realize something.”_

_“That you love him.” Sansa said in awe, a curious glint in her eyes._

_Arya shook her head._

_“No,” she whispered. “That I never stopped.”_

“I know you ordered we not fuss over you, Arya. But forgive me, for I really must ask you again, are you sure you wish to do this? To go down to the Round Hall and face all the Lord’s?”

Arya grinned, a newfound stamina to tackle every single head of house that awaited her downstairs surging through her.

“Yes, I am.”

* * *

“My Lady, if I could have you overlook the first set of lessons I’ve prepared for Lord Baratheon?” Maester Norren requested swiftly, making his way into the Round Hall where she was seated with her legs curled under her, having stayed just a few hours late to deal with extra appointments.

Arya looked up from the scroll she’d just finished writing and gestured for him to move closer.

Upon her arrival, one of her first orders of business was to speak with the Maester of the castle to ensure preparations for Gendry’s education. She refused to leave him with any vulnerabilities once he arrived. And while it might take some time for him to be brought up to speed, he’ll get there, she’d make sure of that herself.

Turning the extended pieces of parchment towards her, Arya glanced through the outline Maester Norren wrote up. The list spanned from reading, writing, history of Westeros, and more miniscule things like etiquette.

“ _Advancement in Reading,_ yes, that’s a rather crucial one, I’m afraid. And a good place to start. Of course he _can_ read, but he needs to do it better.” Arya agreed, reading from the list. “I ask for your complete discretion and patience in this matter, Maester Norren. I’d hate to take issue with you should you at any point make him feel inadequate.” She threatened, her gaze hard and unyielding.  

“You have my word, Lady Arya.” He vowed, a tremble to his chin.

“Then you have my approval of these topics.” She said, now with a smile, handing the parchment back to him.

“My Lady.” He said in departure, a low bow following after taking back the parchment.

Lucinda stood behind Arya, trying to stifle a giggle.

The two had grown quite used to each other in the week’s since she’d arrived in Storm’s End. Lucinda’s mother had worked in the kitchen’s under Lord Renly’s lorship, and had died of a sickness a few years ago.

Having grown up in the castle, she’d been a great help to Arya both in showing her around, and in acquainting her with the other workers who’d been residing there without a Lord or Castellan to serve.

The castle had been abandoned for so long, not even House Baratheon’s banners hung anywhere within the walls. She remedied that not long ago with Lucinda’s aid.

“If he wasn’t afraid of you after you met with the lord’s, I’m sure he is now.” She joked, loving how freely she was able to speak with Arya.

Arya allowed herself just a moment of laughter, before turning serious once again.

“I just---I need everything to be perfect. I lived once amongst people who I believed would never do harm to my family, but they did, and some of those betrayals we never recovered from. Once he arrives, there's no telling what conclusions they'll all come to about him. There will be time for pleasantries and for a kinder nature later on, right now, I need to make sure they're to afraid to try their luck. At least until we win their favor on our own, but that will take time.” Arya shared, the worry in her voice harder to hide now that she knew it was only a matter of time before Gendry arrived to Storm’s End.

The raven from Jon had arrived the day before, all the Lord’s, or Lady in Sansa’s case, had arrived to King’s Landing a fortnight ago, bending the knee to him as King of the Seven Kingdoms.

She’d told Jon she was going to Storm’s End when she’d intercepted him in King’s Landing after the attack, his gaze full of shock at the state she was in.

A state she hadn’t fully recovered from, with the nightmares to prove it.

Jon’s message to her was short and to the point.

_I didn’t tell him you’re there, but you should know he left for Storm’s End last night._

Lucinda’s gaze softened at the distress of her lady, knowing just how much she was exhausting herself to put things in order.

“If he’s any bit as wonderful as you, he’ll be well-received here.” She offered in consolation.

Arya looked at Lucinda over her shoulder and smiled warmly, nodding in gratitude.

_“I’ll have you know that being the Lady of a castle doesn’t have to be what everyone thinks it is.” Sansa tried to argue after learning of her answer to Gendry’s proposal, much to Arya’s annoyance._

_“Sansa---”_

_“I don’t just do what mother did as Lady of Winterfell, I keep all the appointments, I make the arrangements for the armor of the soldiers, I even weigh in on the weaponry.”_

_Arya sighed heavily, not sure if she has the fight in her for this conversation._

_“It’s not about that.” She said gently, preparing for her sister to press further._

_“Then what’s it about?”_

_Standing up so hard she almost toppled the chair she was seated on, Arya started pacing her sister’s room._

_“I won’t ever pretend to try and fully contemplate everything you endured to get here, you’re the strongest person I know, Sansa. And we survived however we could. But the way I survived, the way I willed myself to get up every day---was my list. A list that I recited every single night before nightfall, I couldn’t fall asleep without saying it, that’s how dependent I was on it.” She snarked. “Revenge is what kept me alive.”_

_Sansa blinked back the tears in her eyes, standing and treading carefully towards her younger sister._

_“You don’t need to let it be the reason anymore, Arya. You have me, Jon, Bran, and Gendry.”_

_Arya choked back a sob, turning her back towards Sansa._

_“That’s exactly why I need to leave.”_

_Arya knew it dawned on Sansa then, the true meaning behind her words. That she’d prefer to go South on a journey guaranteed to kill her, rather than wait around and risk losing one of the people she just got back._

_“I understand why you feel the need to do this, but I won’t bet against you. In fact, I’m hoping you prove me right while you’re down there and decide you’d rather live. Because you have us, all of us, and we’re not going anywhere. It’s my wish that you believe that one day, that you truly believe it.” Sansa finished, a hopeful smile gracing her face._

“I hope they treat him as wonderfully as you’ve treated me, Lucinda.” Arya said.

“All the work you’ve done here so far has earned enough respect for you both. But I have no doubt that he’ll earn it on his own once he’s given the chance.” She assured, meaning every word of it.

That night, Arya fell asleep to the sound of wolves howling. And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid for those she cared about.

* * *

Gendry had spent the majority of the journey to Storm’s End going over the same set of words in his head.

_“Arya. She was here when the city fell.” Jon said, instilling a sense of fear in Gendry that he didn’t know was possible._

_“Is she---”_

_“Alive? Aye.” He confirmed quickly, taking pity on his young friends nerves. “She found me once she made it out, covered in ash and blood. And more shaken up then I’ve ever seen her, said she’d come to kill the Queen but decided not to.”_

_Gendry swallowed harshly, cursing under his breath for not having caught on to what she was planning that night of the feast. That she was planning to leave and get herself killed._

_Sansa had confirmed as much the morning everyone marched south. Gendry had been instructed to stay behind with her, knowing that no matter how the battle went, they’d both be required to go south and bend the knee._

_Speaking of the eldest Stark sister, Gendry looked towards his right where she stood, his brows furrowed in confusion at the smirk on her face._

_“And you just let her leave?” Sansa asked, harboring her demeanor of ice again._

_“Had her checked by Sam before I allowed her out of the camp, but we both know no one let’s Arya do anything.” Jon answered, something in his gaze towards his sister that was almost unsettling to Gendry. As though he was trying to convey something that he wasn’t meant to understand._

_“So she left,” Sansa sighed, “where to this time?”_

_Jon smiled warmly, a bright spot in a city so full of darkness that day._

_“She said she was going home.”_

“Mind filling me in as to what’s goin on in that head of yours?” Davos asked, his distinct voice managing to snap Gendry out of his thoughts.

“I wouldn’t know where to even start.” He answered, the frustration evident in both his tone and body.

“This wouldn’t have to do with a certain Stark girl, would it?” He asked, and it became clear to Gendry that Davos already knew the answer to the question.

Davos watching him wearily from the corner of his eye, slowing his horse down to match the pace of Gendry’s.

“When were you planning on sharing that piece of information, lad?” He pushed further, having been looking for the right opportunity to press Gendry on his deeper ties to the Stark’s that were relatively unknown.

“I don’t see how that matters now.” Gendry grumbled, trying so hard to hide the hint of bitterness in his voice. A bitterness he felt he had no right to feel. Arya wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever met, hell, she wasn’t like anyone else in the _world_.

What he’d done, by asking her to be the Lady of Storm’s End, had to have been one of the dumbest things he’d ever done.

He prided himself on knowing her better than most, on having come to know her at a time when hardly anyone else did. But he got ahead of himself, and said the one thing guaranteed to push her away forever.

“Oh I beg to differ, son.” Davos retorted, a new-found ferocity in his voice. “Now I let you sulk from King’s Landing up until now, but we’re not far from the first inn in the Stormlands, and if you’re to be properly introduced, I need ya to pull yourself together.”

Gendry sighed deeply, his hands tightening on the reins of his horse.

“And what does any of that have to do with Arya?” He snarked back, his anger getting the better of him.

“As your advisor, you owe me some answers.”

Gendry huffed, pulling his horse to a stop.

“Ser Davos, I owe you my life. I haven’t ever denied that. But I don’t owe you answers about Arya. Beside’s, I can’t give you answers that I don’t have.” He said.

“You can start at the bloody beginning!” Davos snapped. “You can start with how when I told you what King we were working for, you failed to mention that you knew his sister. Correction, that you spent _months_ with his sister. At no point did that feel like a worthy thing to share?”

“And what was I supposed to tell Jon?” Gendry yelled. “That Arya looked out for me when no one else did. That she wanted me to stay with her when they brought her to her mother and brother, but that I chose the Brotherhood because in my head I was too bloody lowborn to even be friends with her. And that even after I made that choice, she still tried to keep the red witch from taking me? What was the best way you think, to tell the King that I abandoned his sister when she needed me?” He continued, not being able to stop now that he’d started. “She ran away from the Brotherhood after they sold me. That’s how The Hound got ahold of her, got her to the twins just as the Red Wedding started, I thought she died there when I’d heard of it. And after that---seven hell’s. If you knew where she went after that, if you knew what she learned to do, the price she paid to learn it---you’d know damn well why I never spoke a word of her.”

Gendry was breathing hard now, his mind thinking of her scars, and her explanation of how she’d come to have them.

“Lad---”

“And if I didn’t think it was a good idea before to mention to Jon that I knew her, mentioning her now after I’ve bedded her would’ve been even worse,” he admitted. “I think I loved her before I even knew what it meant.”

Davos turned his head towards him in shock, opening his mouth to speaking but closing it just as quickly.

“I told her as much when I asked her to---” he’d begun, cutting himself off, not quite ready to admit _that_ truth of their relationship out loud yet. “But it doesn’t matter, because Arya made her choice, and I love her enough to respect it.”

Davos sat atop his horse, processing how the conversation he started spun so far out of his control.

He’d anticipated several answers to Gendry’s history with Arya Stark, but none of them hitting anywhere close to the reality.

* * *

“I’ll need the records of the finances, and send raven’s to all the Lord’s, tell them that I need a full count of their armies and household’s. We’re beginning to see an increase in people from King’s Landing seeking refuge, if I’m to allocate them, the Houses that aren’t as well-manned as others will take precedence.” Arya ordered Maester Norren from her seat in the Round Hall, having just listened to Lord Kellington’s request for more men.

Turning her head, her gaze settled on the empty throne next to hers.

The throne crafted for and by the Storm King’s, was still used by House Baratheon to seat the Lord. Upon arrival, Arya had a duplicate made, now on the dais of the Round Hall rested _two_ thrones.

She had made sure that the Round Hall was set-up as an equal front.

There were still moments where she had her doubts about whether or not she’d be able to do this, but with each passing day, as she solidified more of herself into the way things were done in Storm’s End, she felt confident that she could.

Sansa was right, being the Lady of a castle doesn’t have to be what it was always perceived to be.

Arya no longer received curious stares when she sparred with the soldiers in the training yard, nor did she catch any disapproving looks for her wardrobe anymore.

“Very good, my Lady.” The Maester agreed, jotting down her notes from further down the table. “That was the last appointment for today.” He informed her, much to Arya’s delight.

“Good. Any word?” She asked, same as she had every day since Jon’s letter.

“A raven from Lord Buckler arrived just before we began today, said the Lord and Ser Davos Seaworth left early this morning. Should be any day now, my Lady, perhaps day after tomorrow.”

Arya gasped, reaching for the cup of wine before her and finishing it.

She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she was nervous for his arrival. She meant what she’d told him that day, he was going to make an amazing Lord.

But she wanted to make it as easy as possible for him. Having lived a fair portion of her childhood with such strict rules, she knew how cruel nobility could be. Living this life, as the Lord of a castle, was going to be difficult for him, she didn’t want him discouraged by petty bannermen set-out to make a mockery of him.

So she’d arrived first and gotten them all in order. Knowing that if they feared her, his integration here might go smoother.

Arya could apologize for many things, but she won’t apologize for trying to protect him.

She could only hope that after everything that’s happened between them, he wouldn’t expect her to, that he wouldn’t take it as her not believing in him.

“Have a chamber prepared for Ser Davos, and make sure there’s space for their horses in the stables.” Arya said, concluding her business for the day, standing up and making a beeline for the massive direwolf resting right in the middle of the Round Hall.

“Nymeria, with me.” She called out, her heart still fluttering at having her back.

She’d begun hearing the wolves at night only a few days ago, and it wasn’t long till the guards called her to the gate to see the direwolf that while unaggressive, refused to leave.

She’d left her pack somewhere in the wilderness of the Stormlands, having migrated them from the Riverlands. Arya let her out whenever she pleased, to go lead them on hunts, having instructed her not to harm any people.

For the most part, Nymeria was quite a topic of conversation, but also a subject of fear. The servants having taken to immediately pressing themselves against the nearest wall they could find until the large wolf passes.

The only one who’d settled their fear towards Nymeria was Lucinda.

It took some coaxing, but once she explained how perceptive direwolves were, she’d eased slowly into the beast’s presence.

Leading Nymeria up the tower towards her room, she breathed in the warmth of the room.

The Lord’s chambers of Storm’s End was a bit of a puzzle to her, it had no windows on the seaward side, and she wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

Summer’s in the Stormland’s are said to be quite hot, but they do get storm’s almost year-round, so in those regards she supposes the lack of windows was practical.

If anything it’s lack of existence in the room kept her from solemnly staring out into the vast sea, afraid that being left to her thoughts in such regards would do more harm than good.

Nymeria let a low whine from her spot in front of the fire, tearing at the strings of Arya’s heart.

“I know, girl. I’m nervous too.”

* * *

“Thought we’d seen the last of House Baratheon,” the keeper of the inn said, a hint of wonder to his voice. As though he was so relieved to be wrong.

 _That_ would take Gendry some getting used to. The way that loyalty to the great houses ran so deep, it was an idea so hard to grasp for him. To know that entire kingdom’s of people were raised to serve, to cherish their liege Lord’s roots, to welcome it’s existence.

Gendry and Ser Davos had stopped at their final resting place before they’d at last make it to Storm’s End.

The reaction of the innkeeper at who he was filled Gendry with a wash of shame, for already dreading whatever mess awaited him upon his arrival.

But it wasn’t only his excitement that left him pensive.

“Feel as though I should warn you, there’s been lots of commotion coming out of Storm’s End these days.” He shared, Davos glaring at him in concern. “Don’t know if you sent word of your arrival.”

Gendry shook his head.

“Lady Sansa Stark did me the favor over two moons ago, but received no reply. I figured there was no one there to respond.” He pondered.

“Well I reckon there’s someone there now, and they’ve been busy.” The innkeeper replied, before sharing even more that left Gendry dumbfounded. “Did you find yourselves any trouble with the wolves?”

Davos whirled his head towards the innkeeper, confusion plastered across his face.

“Wolves? There are no wolves in the Stormlands, they’re not a breed known to embrace the climate here.”

“That might’ve been true once, but there are some now. Sightings started a few weeks ago, been here ever since. Word has it they’re the same pack that roamed the Riverlands.”

Gendry struggled with all his might to push a certain idea to the back of his mind at this revelation, but ultimately giving in to his own fantasy.

_“How foolish would you say I am for thinking Ghost would be bigger?” Gendry murmured, his face nuzzled into Arya’s neck._

_Her lithe body was intertwined with his in multiple places, the both of them still resting on stacks of grain in the storage rooms of Winterfell._

_Arya breathed out a laugh, her roaming hands over his chest having stopped for just a moment when his comment caught her by surprise._

_“That’s easily explained, Ghost was the runt of the litter. He was always smaller than the rest of ours. Nymeria grew to be massive, her size gave me a fright before I realized it was her.” She whispered, a sad note to her voice._

_“What do you mean before you realized it was her?” He asked curiously, pulling his face back._

_“When I sent her away after she bit Joffrey, we were near the Riverlands, she must have stayed there, took dominance over a pack of ordinary wolves.” She started sharing, Gendry’s grip on her waist tightening. “They snuck up on me when I was passing through after leaving the Twins and was making my way here. But I turned around, and there she was. I called her by her name and she let me go.” She recalled._

_“How’d you know it was her?”_

_Arya smiled fondly, turning her head towards him._

_“I just knew.”_

Gendry knew it was wishful thinking but surely the pack now sighted here in the Storm Land’s wasn’t the same?

He entertained the idea to himself, almost hoping it were true, that Nymeria was roaming his lands.

At least that way, he’d have some part of Arya with him.

* * *

Gendry looked ahead at the castle he was meant to rule, his mouth going dry from the nerves.

He’d spent about half the journey preparing himself to face this and the other half trying to make sense of his feelings about Arya.

Needless to say he was unsuccessful in both.

“Ser Davos, I---” he tried to say, not managing to find the way to voice his concern.

“Don’t you worry, lad. I’ll be with ya every step of the way.” He assured, his gaze determined and soft.

Looking towards the banner’s that hung on the castle walls he gulped.

He lived in King’s Landing when Robert was King all his life, had grown up seeing those banner’s, the sigil of his house---of his father’s house.

King Robert started an entire rebellion, contested a centuries old monarch and overthrew them.

His father was the man that usurped the Targaryen dynasty, and now he was meant to carry on that legacy.

Once their horses neared the gate, Davos dismounted, approaching the guards on duty with caution.

“My name is Ser Davos Seaworth and I’m here escorting Lord Gendry Baratheon, the new Lord of Storm’s End, by order of the new King.” He announced.

Gendry held his breath.

There was a short pause, before the guards bowed.

“Sworn to serve, my lord.” One guard said, signaling above for the gate’s to open.

“We’ve been expecting your arrival, your betrothed arrived almost a month ago.” The second guard said, the words almost knocking Gendry off his horse in shock. “She’s listening to petitions in the Round Hall.”

Davos whirled around to Gendry, almost dropping the reigns of his horse.

“His _what_?” He asked the guards, turning back to face him.

Whatever Gendry had been expecting upon his arrival here, that was _not_ it.

* * *

“My lady, you cannot ask me to entertain the thought of putting swords in my daughter’s hands.” Lord Trant boasted, commanding the floor of the Round Hall as though it was his.

Arya sighed heavily, resisting the temptation to request a glass of wine.

Most afternoon’s, listening to petitions wasn’t this stressful, but Lord Trant provided a special kind of stress, just like his cousin before him.

Her hand itched to reach for one of her blade’s.

Of all the sworn houses in the Stormlands, House Trant was proving to be the most difficult.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but I’m not asking.” She commanded, looking him straight in the eye once he’d stopped waltzing enough to hold a proper conversation.

His gaze turned wild in an instant.

“Now you listen here, girl, there is a way things are done. And where I come from, little girls don’t wield swords.” He retorted, confident in his defiance.

A confidence that was almost remarkably short-lived. Nymeria’s growling from her place at Arya’s feet under the table causing him to shrink in his place.  

Arya leaned back in her chair, her arms resting on each side.

“Your cousin, Meryn Trant, did you know him well?” Arya asked, delighted to have caught him off guard.

“I---he was first named to King Robert’s kingsguard when I was but a boy of nine. Last we heard of him he left King’s Landing on business for the Queen and never returned. Haven’t heard from him since.” He replied, his eyes harrowed at her question.

“Allow me to save you the trouble of wondering. He’s dead.” She announced to a now quiet room.

His mouth gaped open before he composed himself.

“And if I might ask, my lady, how is it that you came to know that?” He asked, an unmistakable tone of fear in his voice.

Arya smirked cruelly, leaning forward from her chair, her elbows on the large table atop the dais.

“Because I’m the one that killed him.” She cavalierly revealed.

There were hushed murmurs all around the hall.

“My lady, you dare---” Lord Trant had started, but Arya didn’t give him the chance to finish.

“Do you want to know where he was when I did it?” She offered, looking around, a well of pride at having every single lord of the Stormlands captivated. “In a brothel. And do you wish to know what his type was?”

There was a silence to the room as she spoke that Arya found almost peaceful.

“Put it this way, they suggested a girl that looked younger than I did and he claimed she was too old. I’m sure you can piece it together yourself from there.”

Lord Trant had the common sense to look horrified by what she implied.

“Lady Arya, I assure you whatever my cousin’s misgivings were, it is of no reflection on the honor of my house.” He rambled.

“Good. That should make this next part easier then,” she replied as she stood, her hands sustaining her weight against the table. “I want each and every one of you to hear me well.”

It was then that Arya heard the door’s to the Round Hall open, an erratic sense of breathing coming from the same direction. But she didn’t dare look---not yet. Not until she was done here.

Nymeria had stood from where she was resting, hopping down from the dais and having begun prowling the perimeter of the circular room on her behalf.

“I would think it obvious that I don’t care for tradition. If you haven’t gathered by now the type of lady I am, and more importantly the type of lady that I’m _not_ \---then perhaps this kingdom is due for restructuring. All daughters in the Stormlands get the choice to train in combat, my decision is final.” She spoke.

“My Lady---” she heard someone call.

“I’m not asking that you shove blades in their hands and send them to the frontlines within a fortnight. I’m ordering you to give them an option that was never made available to me growing up in Winterfell. Having fled King’s Landing when my father was wrongfully imprisoned, you can imagine how useful being able to handle myself on the King’s Road would’ve been.” She spoke eloquently. “My orders stand. And this way, Lord Trant, you can say that where you come from---little girls stand a chance.”

Arya took a deep, shaky breath once she finished, turning to look for Lucinda so she could see a friendly face, but was surprised when she didn’t see her in her usual spot.

Before she had the chance to search for her further, it was the next person’s voice she heard that left her frozen in place.

“Arya.” He called out softly, a soft gasp coming out of her mouth.

Turning back towards the door’s, behind where Lord Trant stood, she saw him.

And it was the look of awe on his face as he looked at her, that made her realize any nerves she felt over his arrival were for nothing.

“Gendry.”

* * *

Gendry was teetering on the edge of being out of breath from how fast he followed Ser Davos to a room he was told was called the Round Hall.

His _betrothed_?

Seven hells, he had enough to worry about with how unprepared he was for all this, but now he had this to deal with as well. Despite being as unwilling to entertain the idea of marriage any time soon as he was, whatever this was, took him by surprise.

Surely this isn’t how high born’s conduct matters as delicate as marriage?

He wouldn’t know either way.

Gendry was so lost in his inner-ramblings that he hadn’t noticed when Davos stopped, and walked right into his back.

The guards accompanying them opened the doors, and Gendry could’ve been the most properly raised Lord to ever exist, but absolutely _nothing_ \---could’ve ever prepared him for what he found inside.

_“I would think it obvious that I don’t give a damn about tradition. If you haven’t gathered by now the type of lady I am, and more importantly the type of lady that I’m not---then perhaps this kingdom is due for restructuring. All daughters in the Stormlands get the choice to train in combat, my decision is final.”_

He stared in awe both at the sound of her voice, and at the sight of her.

Arya.

She was here, in Storm’s End. _She_ was the betrothed the guard’s spoke of?

Gendry’s eyes quickly scattered the room, seeing over two dozen men seated. He kept searching, so sure that there was another woman, someone else to explain why his guard’s believed him to be betrothed.

Because they couldn’t be referring to Arya, he hoped the god’s weren’t that cruel.

He already found it difficult to keep his eyes off of her, but the tone in which she was speaking, the complete and utter control she had of the room was what captivated him this time.

Stepping further into the room he saw a gigantic beast walking around.

 _Nymeria_.

He’d been right the day before when he’d made the connection between the pack from the Riverland’s and the one now residing here.

Nymeria had made sure to follow her master and that truly warmed his heart, to know Arya had that type of devotion and protection somewhere in the world.

“My Lady---” a voice nearby called.

Gendry turned towards the sound and saw a blonde girl now standing between him and the guards.

She gave him a warm smile, and then she began to fidget where she stood, a nervous glance towards Arya.

If Arya heard her, she gave no indication that she had.

_“I’m not asking that you shove blades in their hands and send them to the frontlines within a fortnight. I’m ordering you to give them an option that was never made available to me growing up in Winterfell. Having fled King’s Landing when my father was wrongfully imprisoned, you can imagine how useful being able to handle myself on the King’s Road would’ve been.” She spoke, walking right up to the Lord she was speaking to. “My orders stand. And this way, Lord Trant, you can say that where you come from---little girls stand a chance.”_

Gendry shuddered, her words giving him chills.

It was when she started looking around the room that finally decided to make his presence known.

For a moment he couldn’t find his voice, but looking at her now, in the middle of Storm’s End, he managed to utter just the one.

“Arya.”

* * *

Arya wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed after she’d said his name.

There was an entire feast hall filled with all the Lord’s of the Stormlands but they were just about the very last thing on her mind at the moment.

Maester Norren had advised her to anticipate Gendry’s arrival based on his calculations of when he’d left Bronzegate two days ago.

But seeing him now, staring at her like she were a ghost, a great pressure was lifted off her chest.

“Lord Gendry Baratheon,” she announced. “It’s about time you showed up.”

She saw Lucinda standing in between Gendry and Ser Davos, a wondrous glint to her eyes.

Ser Davos looked on in amusement, the promise of a million questions heavy between them.

“I would’ve arrived a lot sooner had I known you were already here, m’lady.” Gendry teased, stepping forward, waltzing past Lord Trant with so much as a look.

Arya breathed heavily as he neared her, she forced herself to make note of his appearance.

He looked like a proper Lord now with his leather’s. It was a sight to behold, especially once she made note of a few details in his wardrobe that she’d no doubt ask him about later.

“It’s _my_ Lady, you’re the Lord of Storm’s End now, you should talk right.” She jested, knowing that the last time she corrected him was in Harrenhal. It almost felt like another lifetime ago.

Gendry chuckled, his gaze beginning to wander, the intimidation of the situation he’d walk into setting in on his face.

Seeking to both distract him and work through her own raging feelings, Arya shortened the distance between them and leapt into his arms.

His arms wrapped around her instantly, holding her up a few inches off the ground, his face pressed to her neck.

Arya grasped his head in her hands, her mouth starting to quiver.

It was then that she realized just how much she loved him, and how relieved she felt at having him right in front of her knowing she’ll get the chance to tell him. One of her most prevalent thoughts when she was trying to make it out of King’s Landing was the regret she felt over not saying it back.

She’d make sure this time that she did.

From her place in Gendry’s arms, Arya could see Lucinda’s heartwarming face. Taking matters into her own hands she suggestively raised her eyebrows to the handmaiden she’d grown to treasure so dearly.

Lucinda began whispering to Davos almost immediately, the two getting acquainted.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all rather curious about the new Lord, but it’s best we save that for tomorrow. The lad’s had a long journey, and as I’m sure Lady Arya’s told you, he has a bit of catchin up to do.” Davos announced, then softly telling the guards to open the doors.

Arya sighed thankfully once all the Lord’s and their parties began making their way out of the Round Hall. It’ll be a short-lived relief as they’re all staying in Storm’s End, at Arya’s invitation once she knew Gendry’s arrival was impending.

“Arya…” she heard a muffled sound say. Pulling her head back, she looked down at his frustratingly handsome face, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her at the sight of tears welled in his eyes.

“Hi.” She breathed, pressing her forehead to his.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but what are you doing here?” He asked, making no effort to mark his nerves.

Looking behind him and still seeing Lucinda and Ser Davos standing there, she moved her hands down from his head to his shoulders. Pushing his shoulders down gently, Gendry got the message and slowly lowered her back to the ground.

“I think that’s a conversation to be had in our chamber’s.” She answered, taking his hand and pulling him towards the two figures watching them by the door.

“Lady Arya, you Stark’s are full of surprises these days, aren’t you?” Ser Davos greeted.

“I’ve got to find some way to keep things exciting, don’t I?”

Ser Davos chuckled with a quick shake of his head.

“Hopefully you’ll show me a bit of a mercy in the near future. I’ve had enough excitement to last two lifetimes.” He pleaded.

Just as she was to answer, they were interrupted by Lucinda dipping into a curtsy.

“My Lord, welcome to Storm’s End, we are at your service.”

Arya restrained the urge to laugh out loud at the display from her handmaiden, knowing just how many formalities she’s managed to iron out with her.

Glancing towards Gendry, she held no such restraint to hold in her laugh when she saw him blinking away without a clue how to respond.

It took him a moment, but it wasn’t long till he responded exactly as Arya anticipated he would.

“I’m---uhm---thank you. But please, call me Gendry.”

Lucinda’s eyes lit up, and she nodded her head in agreement.

“Gendry, this is Lucinda,” Arya introduced. “My handmaiden.” She clarified.

Gendry blinked in surprise, his eyes shifting between the two girls in disbelief.

“ _You_ have a handmaiden?” He questioned, the amusement heard all too clearly.

Arya rolled her eyes.

“Just the one. When I got here, five assigned themselves to me.”

“So you kept one?” He asked.

“Clearly. Even I can admit when I’m out of my element, and it’s not like I’ve ever been to Storm’s End before. I know I don’t always accept help---”

“Ask anyone.” Gendry quipped.

“Shut up,” she easily retorted. “But now I find I can’t quite manage without her.”

Lucinda was gleeful, genuinely overjoyed to have won over her lady in such a capacity.

“You’ve managed an impossible then. It’s an honor to meet you.” Gendry told the blonde.

“The honor is all mine.” She argued, before turning towards Davos. “Ser Davos, Arya ordered a chamber be prepared for you. You’ll be in the room one floor down, right below the tower. Where the Lord’s family rooms are.” Lucinda stated, before addressing Arya personally. “I’d be happy to show him there myself, if you’d like.” She continued  with an all too knowing smirk.

“Yes, thank you, Lucinda.”

Arya tightened her grip on Gendry’s hand as she led him out of the Round Hall, and up the several flights of stairs till they reached the one that held their room, Nymeria trotting closely behind.

“Lord’s chambers are six floor’s up from the Round Hall.” She informed him. “Maester’s cell is at the very top, other than that, our room is the only one in the tower.”

“Our room, is it?” He said, taking in his surrounding once she’d pulled him into the room.

“Yes, _our_ room. The Lord’s didn’t think it proper at first, most likely still don’t, but I didn’t come here for their approval.” She answered, removing the jacket portion of her leather’s.

“Why _did_ you come here?” He asked, and Arya’s breath hitched.

Turning around, she saw him with arms crossed, the lines of his face emphasized by his expression.

But she knew it was time to say everything she almost never got the chance to.

* * *

Gendry had been on a never-ending road of things he couldn’t quite believe. From Davos showing up on the street of steel to look for him, to going beyond the wall and facing the horrors that were once there. To then fighting those horrors in the home of the girl he loved, and then getting legitimized for his efforts.

Each new turn in his life was harder to believe than the last.

But perhaps none more difficult to wrap his head around than his current circumstances with Arya.

He’d followed her from the Round Hall to _their_ chambers, Nymeria curling up in front of the fire upon entry as though it was routine.

Looking around the large chambers he noticed several things.

The pieces of parchment and ink on the desk.

The books on the soft chair by the fireplace.

Several pairs of shoes at the foot of the bed.

It all confirmed what he was so afraid to hope for, in case it wasn’t true.

For some reason or another, Arya _lived_ here now. And if the state of this room was any indication, she was there to stay.

He felt the bed dip beside him and realized Arya had come to sit next to him.

For a moment he’d forgotten that he’d asked her anything. Which was for the best, otherwise the extended silence would’ve caused him to regret saying anything at all.

“I left Winterfell thinking I wouldn’t live to see it, or anyone there ever again.” She spoke, so softly that Gendry’s heart ached.

“I rode down with The Hound, turns out he and I had more in common than I thought. Like me, he was willing to die for revenge, if it was the last thing he did. And for him it was.”

Gendry tried to quell the anger that stirred inside him, not understanding how she could hold so little value on her own life.

“Arya, I know how much your list meant to you. I could probably recite it myself. But going to King’s Landing to kill Cersei, when Daenerys and Jon were already going to do the same---is your life worth nothing to you?” He argued.

“No, it wasn’t.” She confessed. “Revenge on my family’s enemies is all I was for a time. I lost pieces of myself to maintain that, it’s what cost me my sight in Braavos, and it’s what almost killed me this time.”

Seeing the slight quiver of her bottom lip, Gendry reached out and took her hand in his.

“When we got to the Red Keep, the city was already falling. And it was The Hound who wouldn’t let me take another step. He didn’t tell me anything new, but he made me accept something that I’d been choosing to ignore.” She continued to speak, her eyes not quite meeting his. “I didn’t need my list anymore, and I haven’t needed it for a while. Not since I went home and saw my brothers and sister---since I saw you.”

Gendry froze where he sat.

“What I said to you that day in the forge, about knowing death.” She started again. “I---I was wrong. What I saw in King’s Landing while Daenerys burned it down, when I was fighting to get out. The bodies in the street, people who had nothing else to do but embrace each other and wait. _That_ was death.” There were tears falling down her cheeks now. “And I never want to see it again.”

Gendry blinked back the tears in his eyes and pulled Arya into his arms, her whole body beginning to shake.

He consoled her as best he could, whispering everything he could think of into her ear.

“I almost didn’t make it out.” She murmured into his chest. “You have no idea how close it was, how many times---”

Gendry moved his hands to her neck, gently tugging her up to look at him.

“But you did.” He told her, saying it for his benefit as much as hers. “You did make it out, and you’re here, and god’s Arya, _I love you_.”

He thought it was the wrong thing to say when more tears fell from her eyes, but the most consistent thing about her is how much she always manages to surprise him. And that’s exactly what she continued to do.

“I love you too.” She said, a gentleness to her that wasn’t expecting. “I should’ve said it back. I’m sorry it took me realizing I might not have had the chance for you to hear me say it.”

Gendry laughed warmly, pressing his lips softly to hers.  

“I’m just glad you said it at all.”

* * *

Arya awoke atop Gendry’s chest, the sheets cool around her bare skin.

But it wasn’t those circumstances that surprised her that morning, it was that Gendry was already awake.

Burrowing further into his chest she yawned, his hands reaching out to draw patterns on the skin of her back.

“How long have you been awake?” She inquired, peeking one eye open.

“A lot longer than you have, I didn’t take you for someone who fancies sleep.” He joked.

“It’s new.” She said. “Something about the sound of waves, and the sound of constant rain.”

Gendry nodded in understanding.

“Beside’s, I’ve been busy getting this kingdom in order, and that’s no small feat. I’ll never admit it to them, but these Lord’s in the Stormlands exhaust me more than any battle could.”

Gendry’s face turned serious for a moment. She noticed immediately and opened both her eyes, giving him her undivided attention.

“Arya, I don’t want you to think this is the only way we can be together. I made a mistake asking you to be the Lady of Storm’s End, I know you better than that.” He told her.

“I would’ve waited for you in King’s Landing if I didn’t want to do this. I’m here because I spent too long living everywhere and nowhere. I would’ve told you to ask me again, but given what we did last night, I didn’t really think it was necessary.” She teased, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his.

Gendry reached up to cup her face, deepening the kiss.

Arya began running her hands across the planes of his chest, remembering how good it felt against her the night before.

Right as she was about to remove the sheet between them, there was a soft set of knocks at the door.

Arya grumbled against his mouth before pulling away and reaching for his shirt and throwing it over head. Walking towards one of the chest of drawers in the room, she pulled out a pair of breeches and tossed them to him on the bed.

Gendry stood up and quickly pulled the pair over his lower half, returning to lounge on the bed once he had.

“You can come in now, Lucinda.” Arya called out, no doubt in her mind as to who was at the door.

Sure enough, the door on the far side of the room opened slowly, and the blonde walked in holding a scroll in her hand and clothing draped over her arm.

“I trust you both slept well?” She said softly, holding out the scroll for Arya to grab.

Arya laughed, finding amusement in Lucinda’s gentle-hearted implications.

“You could say that.” Gendry said, gazing curiously towards the scroll in her hand.

Arya looked at the royal seal and tore it open instantly.

_Bran has informed me things between you two are going well. I’m glad to hear it._

Her eyes ran over the words carefully, a part of her heart aching at the words, if only because it reinforced how much she missed him already. It was a great comfort to her knowing that Bran had remained with him in King’s Landing.

“It’s from Jon.” She announced, walking towards the bed and holding it out for Gendry to take.

It took him a bit longer than it took her to read through it, but eventually he didn’t disappoint with his reaction.

“You bloody Stark’s.” He said in disbelief. “He knew that you came here?”

“I had to tell someone where I was going, didn’t I? And he gave me the document of your legitimization to present to the Lord’s.” She shrugged.

“Did Sansa know?”

Arya shook her head quickly.

“No, although she’ll be thrilled to hear it. She won’t reach Winterfell for another couple of week’s, I’m giving it a few more days before I send a raven to tell her. But I’m sure Jon already did, and if he didn’t, Bran would’ve before she left.”

“Jon told Sansa that you’d said you were going home.” He brought up carefully.

“I meant it.” She answered immediately.

If Lucinda weren’t standing in the room, she’s sure he would’ve taken her then and there.

His gaze was heated and lustful.

Arya’s brows raised at this timing, turning back towards her handmaiden before she let her desires get the best of her.

“I was on my way down from the rookery and I stopped by picking up your new leathers. They’re tailored exactly as you specified.” She revealed, much to Arya’s excitement.

She’d lasted two weeks with her usual fighting leathers before she accepted defeat and realized it was far too hot in the Stormlands for them.

The seamstresses of Storm’s End had been very busy since her arrival, re-making all the banner’s for House Baratheon. She hadn’t wanted to bombard them, but they’d been excited to see her. Their amused smiles when she’d given instructions for fighting leather’s and not a dress still warmed her heart.

Her new leathers were inspired by styles she’d seen in Braavos.

She’d never been one to get excited over clothes, but seeing Lucinda hold out her new one’s gave her a sense of joy.

The top was form-fitting, almost like a corset, but with the benefit of being able to breathe in it. And there was a small vest that merely covered her shoulder blades and buckled at her neck, leaving a few inches of her chest exposed, and her arms bare.

These would suit her well with the moist, sticky air of the Stormlands. Not that it'd been planned, but the color scheme matched Gendry's leathers, a blush to her cheeks now present once she remembered what he'd said to her the night before when she was removing them from his body. 

_"Claw marks." She noted in surprise, her hands stopping their motion to remove the leathers from his shoulders. "What's a Lord who's sigil is a Stag doing with claw marks on his wardrobe."_

_Gendry smiled._

_"I asked for them in honor of you."_

“They’re perfect,” Arya commented, unbeknownst to Lucinda, referring to more than just her own clothes. “Remind me to stop by their work room to thank them.”

Lucinda nodded.

“I’ve already stopped by the kitchens and Jocelyn will bring up your trays shortly.”

“Thank you, Lucinda.” Gendry spoke. “We’re lucky to have ya.” His accent peeked through causing them both to smile.

“It’s my pleasure, truly.” She replied earnestly.

“Please send word to all the Lord’s that we’ll meet with them in the Round Hall later today. Three hours from now should be sufficient.”

“As you wish.” She agreed, dipping into a small curtsy and scurrying off before Arya could get the chance to exchange words over it.

“I’m amazed you let her be so formal.” Gendry said, having waltzed up behind her, his arms snaking around her waist.

“Not for lack of trying.” She grumbled, a soft sigh escaping her lips as he pressed a small kiss to her neck. “The breeches, do they fit?” She asked, almost having forgotten to ask.

“Perfectly.”

“I ordered some be made for you before you got here. Like I said, I’ve been busy.” She commented.

“I can see that.” He replied with a laugh. “I don’t know how to thank you enough for it.”

Arya smirked mischievously.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

* * *

Gendry groaned, his head pounding at the amount of information that was being shoved in over the past couple of months.

Arya had made arrangements with Maester Norren before he’d arrived for his lessons and to say he was overwhelmed, would be putting it lightly.

“You’re doing quite well, my Lord.” Maester Norren had commented earlier, for what had to have been the thousandth time. He was oddly complimentary of him and it only took one passing mention of it around Lucinda for him to find out why.

Arya had a few choice words for the elderly man during her first few days in Storm’s End should he ever be anything less than encouraging towards his education.

Adjusting himself carefully in his seat, he was careful not to move his legs, lest he disrupt the resting place of the large direwolf at his feet.

Arya had instructed Nymeria to accompany Gendry wherever he went. He was allowed to dismiss her only when he felt he could completely trust every single person in the castle.

He’d been hesitant to admit that he already did, having grown used to the giant wolf always in his company.

Nymeria was a lovely reminder of the wild and mystical love he’d found in Arya.

Currently, he was learning the history of his own house, which as it turns out, was _fascinating_.

“As we established in your last lesson, the Stormlands were once ruled by House Durrandon, the proclaimed Storm Kings. During Aegon’s Conquest, Orys Baratheon---his rumored bastard brother---was deployed here by Aegon after the last Storm King, ‘Argilac the Arrogant’ refused a marriage offer between Orys and his daughter Argella. He cited the offer as an insult to his daughter since he believed Orys to be a bastard.”

Gendry listened attentively.

“It wasn’t long before Aegon sent Orys here, with Queen Rhaenys and the bulk of their forces to conquer Storm’s End. Having heard what happened with Harren the Black, Argilac knew his own seat would stand no chance against one of the dragons, opting to meet Orys and Rhaenys in open battle instead. And it was there that the last Storm King met his end.”

Maester Norren began moving around the room as he recounted the origins, Gendry becoming more intrigued with every word.

“When word reached Storm’s End of her father’s demise, Argella sealed herself inside the castle and declared herself Storm Queen. But her own bannermen and household, fearing for their lives after hearing of the fate of those in Harrenhal, betrayed her and delivered her to Orys chained, gagged, and naked.”

Gendry gasped, not understanding how people with someone as brave and defiant as Argella undoubtedly was, could arrange for her to endure such humiliation.

“Orys unlocked her chains himself, covered her with the very cloak off his back and showed her kindness. He took her as his wife, and to honor her and her father, took the sigil---a black crowned stag on a gold field---and words---Ours is the Fury---of House Durrandon as his own. Thus forming the House Baratheon we know today.” He finished, amazing Gendry down to the very last word.

“One of my favorite history lessons.” He heard a voice say, entering the Maester’s Cell at the top of the tower.

Arya stood there, sweat brimming her forehead, no doubt having returned from her rides around the grounds. She’d been consulting with all the Master-at-arms of the Stormlands, familiarizing herself with the lay of the land and orchestrating the best forms of defense should they ever be necessary.

He glared appreciatively at her, the new leather’s she’d begun wearing only emphasizing her wild beauty.

“My Lady, we were just finishing for today.” Maester Norren greeted, a quick bow after his words.

“Excellent, because Sansa’s almost here.” She announced, catching him off guard.

“I thought she wasn’t arriving till tomorrow?”

“A Storm’s coming, so they rode through the night.”

Gendry nodded once she clarified, standing up from the desk and allowing Arya to guide him down the tower.

“Are you nervous?” He asked her, not missing how clammy her hands were.

“A bit.” She admitted, at great cost to her pride.

He chuckled, knowing just how eventful the arrival of the elder Stark sister will be once Arya tells her the truth.

“I’m sure she’ll understand.” He assures her, his arm wrapped around her the rest of the way down.

* * *

Lucinda couldn’t help the giggles escaping her as Arya and her sister supped together in the Lord’s chambers.

Her lady was as bold and brave as they came, but it’d been amusing to see her so nervous these past few weeks over the arrival of her sister.

While the Lady Sansa had arrived to Storm’s End first, the King was due to arrive the following week, for the wedding between Arya and Gendry.

And she was witnessing Arya tell Sansa that they had already married a moon ago in the godswood, herself and Ser Davos the only one’s present.

“Honestly, Arya, just when I think you’ve matured.” Lady Sansa reprimanded, her tone light and not at all angry.

“I just---wanted to do this my way. And in a godswood full of everyone in the Stormlands, wasn’t it.” She replied, making sure she emphasized the regret she didn’t feel about having gone ahead with her wedding.

“You’re just fortunate I hadn’t offered to make your dress, or there’d be hell to pay, Arya Baratheon.” She joked.

Arya’s eyes popped out of her name at the surname, her head shaking quickly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be Arya Baratheon. Lady of Storm’s End is one thing, but I fought for every inch to get back to being Arya Stark, and marrying Gendry didn’t change that.” She answered, Lucinda’s eyes softening at the sheer will in her voice.

“Always so headstrong, my sister.” Lady Sansa admired.

“Not that I’ve ever been anything else.”

“I look forward to the tales of how the women of the Stormlands are similar in those headstrong regards for generations to come.” She complimented, Arya’s face softening at her sister’s words.

Lucinda smiled at that, of that she had no doubt.

* * *

Argella Baratheon’s movements through Weeping Town were as precise as her mother trained her to make them, but not as hidden as the young girl thought they were.

_Quick as a snake, quiet as a shadow._

She recalled, Arya’s teachings to her daughters as untamed as she was.

Lucinda had travelled with Arya and Gendry to the shore of Cape Wrath, with their eldest daughter, the two youngest being back in Storm’s End.

Neither one of them being thrilled at being left behind.

The _Three Storms_ they called them, a play on the _Four Storms,_ the daughters of Lord Borros Baratheon during the Dance of the Dragons.

All three of them had been born during a storm, each time the worst storm of the season. But it was the girls themselves who’d inspired the name, perhaps in irony, all three having so far been the very opposite of a storm.

At ten and two, Argella was an even blend between her parents, born two years after they’d married. She had Baratheon black hair, with Stark gray eyes, and a calmness to her that gave peace of mind to anyone in her presence.

Lucinda remembered the months leading up to her birth, the commotion that rocketed the Stormlands when Arya brought forth a motion to change the rules of succession.

Emulating their neighbors via the sea, Arya wished to adapt the Dornish rules for heirs.

As she usually does, the Lady of Storm’s End got her way.

Even if Arya _had_ birthed any sons, Argella would inherit Storm’s End, she’d refused to have it any other way. The eldest girl so eager to learn everything she can find someone to teach, that Lucinda often joked with the rest of the household that when she becomes the Lady of Storm’s End, she’ll have no need for servants as there’s nothing she won’t be able to do herself.

Cassandra, the middle daughter, a girl of seven, and every bit her father’s daughter. She loved accompanying him on his trips to the forge, insistent to hear him explain everything as he does it, determined to learn one day.

She favors her history lessons, like her father.

And can hardly contain her excitement till she gets to the lessons that will include her mother and father’s name.

The youngest daughter, a child of four---is said by the King that she’s the very essence of her mother.

Lyanna, was named as such in Arya’s own way of paying tribute to her favorite sibling. She commented often how she knows Jon never wanted to be King, but how much he yearned to know of the mother who so desperately wanted to know him, but didn’t get the chance.

Her hair wasn’t black like her sisters, but brown like Arya’s, and with the same ferocity as her mother to match.

She was her happiest watching her older sisters train in the courtyard, yearning for the day she gets to join them.

Arya’s trained Argella and Cassandra brilliantly so far, the girls formidable even at such young ages, but it was the suspicion of everyone in Storm’s End that once Lyanna was brought into the fold, she’ll bring a level of glory, it’ll rival even her grandfather’s.

Lucinda stifled a laugh, Argella’s disappointment at having unsuccessfully snuck up on Arya visible.

“Arry, how many times will you attempt this with your mother, hm?” Gendry asked, amusedly, leading them back to their horses, having wrapped up whatever matters they were at the trading port to manage.

Argella huffed with a forceful stomp of her foot.

“Until she doesn’t see me coming.” She replied to her father defiantly, the young girl’s smile as he wrapped an arm around her mother lighting up the stormy skies.

“Lyanna’s gotten closer than I ever have and she’s _four_.” She continued, locking arms with Arya.

Arya laughed at that, grasping her daughter’s hand firmly in hers.

“She’s part wolf, that one.” She replied, earning a gaze full of nothing but love from Gendry.

“We all are, mother. We are your daughters after all.” Argella said with pride, her head raised high.

And it was there, treading behind them slowly that Lucinda realized just how much truth Lady Sansa Stark’s words held.

_“I look forward to the tales of how the women of the Stormlands are similar in those headstrong regards for generations to come.”_

Yes, it would appear they would be hearing such tales.

And the first generation were off to one hell of a start.

 


End file.
